That Night
by BennuBird
Summary: After a night that almost--but not quite--crosses the line, Betty and Daniel's friendship is thrown into new and uncertain territory. If only relationships were spelled out in black and white! DxB
1. A Rude Awakening

**DISCLAIMER:** Trust me, I don't own any of it. Oh, the things that would happen if I did... :-)

**Chapter #1**

_A Rude Awakening_

A soft, contented sigh escaped Betty's lips as she nestled deeper beneath the down comforter. The air beyond the blanket was cold, crisp. But beneath it was a different world. She was warm and safe, his arms wrapped around her from behind. His cheek rested against the back of her neck, sandpapery with morning stubble, and his gentle breathing made it clear that he was still asleep.

The clock on his bedside table read 10:47 a.m. Her eyes drifted closed as she snuggled back against him. What better way could there possibly be to spend a weekend morning? In Henry's gentle embrace, she felt astoundingly content. She could remain in this moment forever, and be happy all of her days.

Her eyes snapped open. A sickening clarity shocked her out of her half-dream as effectively as cold water.

No. Not Henry.

Then, even worse…

Not the weekend.

"Oh no!" She bolted upright so quickly that she smacked heads with the man beside her. He let out a strangled cry, jerking away from her and out of whatever dreams he might have been enjoying.

"What?! What the--?"

"I'm late!" She was already half out of bed, still wearing her crumpled clothes from the day before, frantically searching for her shoes and jacket.

"Betty. Breathe. You're only late if I beat you there," Daniel leaned back on the pillows, one hand gingerly nursing his wounded head. "And, trust me, that's not going to happen."

For the first time, Betty realized the damage she'd done.

"Oh! Oh, Daniel, I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, hovering uncertainly beside the bed. "Do you need ice? I can get ice." She marched purposefully towards his kitchen as she spoke, and Daniel laughed despite the rapidly-rising bump on his head.

"I think I'll survive. Why don't you c--" he halted awkwardly. For a brief moment, his icy blue eyes met her deep brown ones, but he couldn't hold the gaze. He stared intently at the bedspread instead.

"--get yourself ready," he finished, somewhat lamely. Betty uncertainly tried to smooth her wrinkled skirt. Something in his eyes told her what he'd intended to say, though he'd stopped himself.

_Why don't you come back to bed?_

The unspoken words hung in the air between them like a forbidden curtain that had nearly been drawn aside. A curtain that, fortunately, still remained tightly closed.

"Right. I'll just… go wash up," Betty said, hurriedly turning away and making her way towards the bathroom. She closed the door securely behind her, making sure to lock it just in case. In case of what, she wasn't exactly sure.

For a long while, she leaned against the sink with both hands and just stared at herself in the mirror. Tangled black hair was flattened all around her face, and the skin around her eyes was puffy and red. She blew out a frustrated little sigh and combed her fingers through her crumpled bangs in the pointless hope that maybe it would do some good. Rather than taming the frightfulness that was her hair, the finger combing only seemed to make it frizzier. Great, just what she needed: An opportunity to look even less attractive than usual at MODE.

After splashing her face with some water, she searched Daniel's medicine cabinet for toothpaste. Her mouth still tasted vaguely of the Chinese takeout and Ben & Jerry's ice cream from the night before, and though she might have been resigned to looking slightly less than glamorous for the day she drew the line at funky smelling breath. But once she'd grabbed his half-used tube of Crest--squeezed from the middle; typical--Betty realized she had another problem.

The only toothbrush available was his.

Daniel's blue toothbrush sat innocuously in its little plastic cup. It wasn't like he would ever know… but the idea of using his toothbrush seemed somehow inappropriate; too intimate. Instead, she squeezed the toothpaste onto her index finger and scrubbed it over her braces as best she could. That would have to do for today.

She bustled out of the bathroom, all the while avoiding looking at the bed where Daniel still sat with a hand to his head. She could feel his eyes on her while she gathered the Styrofoam takeout containers with shaking hands and carted them off to the trash can. Then she promptly resumed the search for her shoes.

Where had she put them? They had to be right around here; the loft wasn't all _that_ big, after all. Finally she spotted them, resting neatly against a wall in the kitchen, her purse on the floor beside them.

"Daniel, come on, at this rate it'll be noon before we get there," she called, trying to force a take-charge sort of voice while tugging her shoes on awkwardly.

Daniel heaved his legs over the edge of the bed, still grimacing at the throbbing pain from his unexpected wakeup call. He muttered something she couldn't quite make out, but guessed from the tone that it wasn't particularly pleasant. With a groan he stumbled tiredly off to the bathroom.

Once he was out of the room, Betty breathed a little easier. Her stomach was slowly tying itself into so many knots that she was afraid she might be sick. She sank heavily onto the floor, massaging her temples with her fingers while she tried to sort through her crazily swirling thoughts.

Was this normal? Was it OK? It certainly didn't _mean_ anything… did it? Of course not. Anyway, there was no time to think about it right now. She couldn't very well spend the entire day at the office fretting about the night before. That wouldn't do at all.

Should she call the office to let them know that they were running a bit behind schedule? She fished in her purse for her cell phone, pushed a button and--

Twenty-seven missed calls?!

Betty stared at the screen in disbelief, then clicked her way into the call log. Home… home… home… home… Hilda… home…

As she scrolled through call after call from her family the knot in her stomach tightened. Calls all the way till four a.m.! Papi had been worrying about her, no doubt. For a moment, she considered calling to let them know that everything was all right, but the prospect of having to explain where she'd been was not an appealing one. Instead, she shoved the phone back into the recesses of her bag. Better to give herself time to come up with some sort of coherent explanation that wouldn't make Hilda's eyebrows rise up into her hair.

A prickling sensation at the back of her neck made her turn around. Daniel stood in the entryway behind her, watching her with an odd, faraway look in his eyes.

"What?" she asked.

"I called the car," he said. "Fifteen minutes."

He pulled a collared shirt on over his undershirt and slowly fastened the buttons. A bright purple necktie hung loosely around his neck, waiting to be tied. Betty felt the need to say something, but she was a little fuzzy on what it ought to be.

"Daniel…"

He skipped a button.

"Yeah?"

She watched him for a moment, a smile quirking at the corner of her mouth as he obliviously buttoned his shirt up one buttonhole off. By the time he'd reached his collar, the effect was so ridiculous that she had to intervene. With a dramatic eye roll, she dutifully tromped over to him.

"Seriously, do you need me to fix everything?" she said with a grin that was only a little bit forced. She unbuttoned the offending buttons and began fastening the shirt up straight, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on his shirtfront. When she finished she backed away as though the garment had suddenly burst into flames.

"Thanks," Daniel said. He cleared his throat.

"Wait," Betty said, a realization suddenly occurring to her. "We're going in together?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"Well…" she stammered. "It's just… won't that look, you know…"

"Look like what?"

She couldn't quite tell whether he was teasing her or playing dumb for some other reason, but either way it was plain that he understood quite well what she meant. She could see the nervousness behind his blue eyes, though she couldn't place what exactly was the cause.

But Daniel had called her bluff. Her mouth hung open to explain exactly what it would look like if the two of them showed up three hours late in the same car, but she couldn't force the words off her tongue. Any allusion, no matter how vague, to the possibility that it could even be suspected that the two of them had anything beyond a completely platonic relationship seemed like dangerous ground, given the present circumstances. So, instead, she smiled a metal mouthed smile around gritted teeth. If he wanted to gloss over any potential weirdness, she could play that game.

"Oh," she said. "Nothing."

.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

_There, I finally got gusty enough to post something of my own up here. At the moment I think this will end up being a shorter fic... maybe 5 or 6 chapters, depending on how much the idea expands (or shrinks) as I go. Go on and leave some reviews to let me know if you loved it, hated it, or whatever-elsed it. Next chapter won't be too long coming..._


	2. Let's Give Them Something to Talk About

**DISCLAIMER:** Alas, I own nothing. Nada. Niente.

**Chapter #2**

_Let's Give Them Something to Talk About_

The car ride through Manhattan seemed to take hours. Long, excruciating hours.

Unsure what to do with herself, Betty spent most of the time staring out the window at the non-existent scenery and impatiently drumming on her knees.

"Oh, I hope Fabia's assistant didn't call while we were out," she piped up at last, as though they were coming back from a totally normal lunch break. "I've been waiting for that guy to get back to me for days."

Daniel nodded, his gaze focused on some indefinable spot on the floor.

"Not that I can understand what he's saying half the time anyway," she tried again. "It's all things like, 'Fabia's leetle rat dog must 'ave only zee poorified acqua or MODE gets no of zee makeoops.'" Her fake Italian accent was ridiculous even to her own ears, and she resisted the urge to do a little victory dance when Daniel laughed.

"I should sign you up for Italian lessons," he offered with a grin, and for a moment Betty almost believed that everything had magically gone back to normal. "Courtesy of Meade Publications."

"Shut up. Seriously?!" she squealed, grabbing his arm.

"Um… yeah."

He was staring at her. Quickly, Betty dropped her hands to her lap but couldn't quite manage to look away from those Meade baby blues. His gaze trailed down from her eyes and over her nose to her mouth, and her heart gave a peculiar little skip. Then, with a jerk, he looked away and went back to staring at the floor.

She wanted him to say something; to at least acknowledge that there was some definite strangeness in the air. But, for the rest of the ride, whenever she hazarded a glance at him he studiously pretended to be lost in thoughts that had absolutely nothing to do with her.

When she finally stepped out of the town car in front of Meade Publications Betty's pulse began to race. Painful as the ride over might have been, suddenly it seemed like it hadn't lasted nearly long enough. She was acutely self-conscious of the fact that she was wearing yesterday's clothes and her hair hadn't been brushed.

Maybe, she thought in a wild desperate moment, no one would notice.

A melodramatic gasp off to her right let her know that Marc had spotted her on his way out to lunch. Betty resolutely kept her eyes on the main doors but inside it felt like her heart was about to explode. Maybe she could suddenly contract the measles. Or pneumonia. Or bird flu. Something that would get her away from Marc's completely unashamed jaw-on-the-floor gawking.

He only tore his eyes away when Daniel swooped in beside her and placed a guiding hand against the small of her back, hurrying her towards the building. But Marc's cell was already in hand, his fingers furiously dialing.

"Ohmigod, you will not believe what just walked by me. OK, so you know _Beauty and the Beast_, right…?" His voice trailed away behind them as they pushed through the doors.

By the time the elevator arrived at the twenty-eighth floor, word of their unorthodox arrival had spread like pinkeye. Every MODE employee had suddenly remembered an urgent task that had to be done near the elevators.

The shocked stares were more guarded with Daniel beside her, but Betty felt them nonetheless. Amanda's eyes could have melted holes through bone while she watched the two of them hurry past.

By the time Betty made it to her desk her entire face felt like it was on fire. She all but fell into her seat, knocking a pile of papers off of her desk to scatter across the floor. Immediately she dropped to her knees, trying to scoop the papers into her arms and shove them back onto the desktop in at least a somewhat orderly fashion.

Daniel--in a manner that made it difficult to decide whether she was relieved or offended--breezed on into his office and closed the door without a word.

"Betty," Amanda's voice crackled behind her. With a yelp, Betty jumped up only to bang her head on the underside of the desk. She fell back to the ground with an undignified plop.

The blonde eyed Betty's day-old outfit.

"Washing machine break?" she said, the edge on her voice unmistakable. "You know, I hear you need extra strength to handle those floral prints. Make sure Daniel gets these." She dropped a folder onto Betty's desk with a smack.

"Oh," she added. "And here are Daniel's messages, which _I _had to take because _someone _wasn't here to answer his phone. There's one here from… hmm… Renee? Something about a date tonight? Well, I'm sure he'll know what that's about. She sounded super hot, just the way he likes them." She flicked the scraps of paper bearing Daniel's messages in the general direction of the desk, but they missed and floated down around Betty like snow. Then, with an overly sweet shrug, she turned and clacked away in her heels.

Adjusting her glasses nervously, Betty flipped the folder open. Proofs for the cover of this month's issue. She knew she ought to bring them in for Daniel to peruse right away, but something held her firmly in her chair. In fact, she was suddenly seized by a strong desire to do something--anything--other than walk into his office.

Fortunately, she was saved the effort of inventing a task for herself when Christina bustled over and perched on the edge of her desk with an armload of size zero gowns.

"Betty! What's goin' on? I've been hearing rumors about you left and right this mornin'!" the seamstress exclaimed. "And not just the usual ones. What's all this about you turning up in Daniel's town car?"

Betty would have given anything to spontaneously sink into the floor right at that very moment.

"Yeah!" she said, perhaps a little too brightly. "Yeah, we met early to… to do some work so he…" But her voice died away because Christina was giving her a look. The look. The you're-a-horrendous-liar-so-you-might-as-well-out-with-it look.

"Nothing happened!" Betty insisted, but she lowered her voice to a hiss. Christina leaned in eagerly.

"Well then why do your clothes look like they spent all night in a heap on the floor?" Christina demanded in the same hushed tone.

"I never took them off!" Betty protested, horrified. "I slept in them."

"Oh," Christina looked disappointed. But then her eyes lit up again. "_Oh._"

Betty began busily arranging her pens and paperclips according to size and color to avoid Christina's searching gaze.

"But you… slept there?" Christina asked, in a rather poor attempt to sound nonchalant. Never lifting her eyes from the now meticulously organized desktop, Betty nodded. Christina leaned in a little closer.

"…with him?"

Betty didn't answer. How could she? No matter what she said, Christina would know. She couldn't very well deny it, but admit it? Out of the question.

"Henry left last night," she said abruptly, as though that somehow explained everything.

"Ah," Christina said. "So you figured it was about time to be movin' on, then?"

Betty's cheeks flamed.

"No!" she said, too loudly. She quickly lowered her voice again. "_No._ I was… I was upset. Daniel was trying to help me feel better. We just… walked around. You know. Got some takeout. That's all."

No response. Christina just sat there watching her with those disturbingly knowing eyes. Waiting.

"Nothing happened," Betty repeated. "It was just really late, is all. So I stayed."

Again no response. Waiting.

"He didn't try anything, or anything like that. He's my _boss_, Christina."

"Never stopped him before," Christina said. Betty felt inexplicably ill. "Well, if all that's the truth then you're one lucky little lass, aren't you? You got what every woman this side o' the Mississippi would give her best knickers for without any of that nasty after business. Probably the first sexless night that man's had since puberty." She patted the younger woman's arm with a roguish wink. Betty managed a weak smile.

Christina glanced at her watch and jumped to her feet.

"Oh bloody hell… I need to be gettin' these over to the Closet. Two dozen gaunt bitches are coming for a fitting 'round one."

"Bye," Betty murmured feebly as her friend bustled off down the hall.

Lucky? If she ought to feel lucky then why did she feel so… distraught? With a great, frustrated groan, Betty tucked the folder of proofs under her arm, gritted her teeth and let herself into Daniel's office.

When she stepped in, Daniel was thoroughly engrossed in a pile of memos on his desk. Or at least at first glance he appeared to be. But, as she drew nearer, Betty realized that the printout in his hand was upside-down.

"Amanda left these for you," she said, holding out the folder.

"Oh. Thanks," he said, looking up as though he'd only just noticed her there.

The longest second in the history of the world ticked by while they looked at one another. Then, not knowing what else to do, Betty nodded and hurried back towards the door. She was nearly through it, back to the safety of her desk, when--

"Betty?"

She froze.

"I…" he hesitated. "Could you close the door for a sec?"

Now? They were going to do this now? When every denizen of MODE could bear witness to the potentially horrible gut-wrenching aftermath? Betty swallowed hard and took a deep breath. That was ridiculous. There wasn't going to be any horrible gut-wrenching aftermath because there was absolutely nothing to discuss. Nothing had happened and that was that. Case closed.

But reminding herself of that didn't stop her knees from threatening to give out beneath her.

Slowly, she pulled the door closed and turned to face him, her back pressed firmly against the door for support. But she couldn't just stand there waiting for whatever he was about to say.

"Daniel," she burst out just when he looked about to speak. "Before you say anything, I just want you to know that I'm not--"

Not what? Not worried about what happened? Not expecting anything from him? Not in the habit of just sleeping over with male friends? Daniel lifted a hand to cut her off.

"Betty, can I talk first?" he said. "Please?"

Her mouth remained open, the undecided words hovering in it unspoken. She nodded.

For a long moment, Daniel didn't speak. He rose from his desk and went to the window, fidgeting like a 12-year-old boy at a dance. Finally he turned to face her, absently adjusting his belt and staring at the floor.

"I haven't just… just _slept_ with someone for a lo--" he faltered. "Well… ever."

Inexplicably, his words were a slap. Betty sagged back against the door.

She'd done her job well, hadn't she? Mr. Meade had wanted an assistant with whom his son would never have sex in a million years. Well congratulations, Betty, you slept in the same bed as the publishing world's most notorious playboy and he wasn't even tempted to lay a finger on you. Well done.

Daniel took a few steps towards her, but he stopped before he completely closed the distance and remained awkwardly a few feet away. He ran a hand through his messy hair. She noticed he had forgotten to put gel in it.

"It…" he said. "It was really nice."

She stared at him. Of all the things she'd thought he might say to her, that had definitely not been on the list. She tried to speak, but had forgotten how to form coherent words.

Daniel took another step towards her.

"But--"

"My phone's ringing!" she shouted, startling him. She practically flung the door open in her haste to escape. With such exuberance, in fact, that she lost her balance and nearly flew face-first onto the floor.

"Betty!" Daniel lunged forward to grab her arm and keep her upright.

He was too close. She felt dizzy.

The click of a digital camera shutter cut through the fog in her brain. She glanced towards the office…

…and realized that all of MODE was turned towards them, eyes eagerly drinking in what probably appeared to be a tender moment. Marc perched precariously on a chair behind Amanda's receptionist desk and gleefully snapped photo after photo with his cell. Amanda looked significantly less amused.

Betty straightened her glasses.

She tried to retreat to her desk with what was left of her dignity, but found she couldn't go anywhere. Daniel still grasped her arm.

"Your phone isn't ringing," he said, quietly. "Will you please come back in just--"

"I… I can't. I'm really busy, Daniel."

She yanked her arm away and rushed for her chair so quickly that she slammed her hip on the corner of the desk. Stuffing a finger into her mouth to keep from screaming, she hobbled the last foot and seized her mouse with unnecessary fervor . She began clicking buttons meaninglessly in the hope of looking busy.

It was like she could physically feel Daniel's confused gaze, but when she finally summoned the nerve to look up he had retreated back to his desk.

That "but" had sent such a chill through her that she just hadn't been able to let him finish. Better that whatever he'd been going to say remained unspoken.

But as she answered his calls and organized files, Betty couldn't help but wonder… what was she afraid of? The most unnerving part of this whole thing was that she didn't know the answer to that question. She didn't know which idea was more terrifying: Daniel trying to let her down gently or Daniel propositioning her for more. Contemplating either option made her head spin. Better simply not to let him speak at all. Ignorance was bliss, right?

Right.

.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.

**NEXT TIME:** Chapter #3, "You Can Kid the World. But Not Your Sister."

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who reviewed the first chapter! Seriously, you guys are awesome. I suddenly understand why everyone always says they live for reviews. So please keep it up and let me know what your reaction is to Chapter the Second. Reviews spur the writing on faster. :-D


	3. Can Kid the World But Not Your Sister

**DISCLAIMER:** Wait, let me double-check… hmm… OK, yeah, still don't own it. Darn.

**Chapter #3**

_"You Can Kid the World. But Not Your Sister."_

_Charlotte Gray_

When Betty crept through the front door at 6:00 p.m. she was startled to find the house eerily quiet. Considering she had anticipated a thorough telling off the moment she set foot on Suarez soil, the complete and utter lack of a response was more than a little unnerving.

A faint, dozing murmur from the couch got her attention. From the looks of things Hilda had fallen asleep sitting up, her head tilted back against the couch cushions and her mouth hanging slightly open. Betty stifled a yawn at the sight. All she wanted was to get up to her bedroom, crash on the bed for hours and not have to think about Henry's departure or all this craziness with Daniel. The promise of blissful, mindless sleep called to her.

She carefully stepped up onto the bottom stair.

The front door opened with a bang!

"I'm out of signs," Justin's voice announced from the doorway. "But, seriously, there are so many out there now that-- Aunt Betty!" With a high-pitched squeal, he barreled into Betty at full force, knocking her backwards onto the stairs with a super-powered hug. Betty yelped.

"Wha…? Betty?!" Hilda snapped awake, her eyes huge as she stared at her little sister sprawled on the stairs where Justin had tackled her. Like a flash, she closed the distance between the couch and the stairs.

Betty struggled to her feet. But the moment she was upright, Hilda shoved her back down.

"Hey!" Betty exclaimed as she landed on her butt with a solid thump. Again.

"Oh, that's the least of your worries," Hilda said, standing over her with hands on hips and an expression that said she was about to go into overbearing big sister mode. "Where do you get off not telling anybody where you are? We kept calling--"

"Yeah, I know. I saw," Betty held up her phone with a weak smile. "Sorry."

"Aunt Betty, were you going to jump off Brooklyn Bridge?" Justin asked with wide eyes. Betty nearly choked.

"Was I going to _what_?!"

Hilda smacked the back of Justin's head.

"Ow!" he grumbled. "Well that's what you and Grandpa kept saying."

Betty stared at Hilda, completely flabbergasted. What could she possibly say in response to that?

"We thought something happened to you!" Hilda said. "Papi called the police. We've been hanging signs…"

"You hung signs?!"

"I designed them!" Justin interjected cheerfully. "I put in tons of colors and I even found a graphic that looks like your 'B' necklace. It was _so_ you."

This had to be some sort of bizarro alternate universe into which she'd stumbled. There was no other explanation for the fact that her entire family had clearly gone insane. She didn't call for 24 hours and they put up _signs_? Any moment now, the Candid Camera crew would leap out and everyone would laugh at how gullible she was. Or maybe it was April Fool's Day and she'd just forgotten?

"Papi's been out all day asking if anyone's seen you. He called at MODE this morning and they said you hadn't come in. So if you weren't at home and you weren't at work where the crap have you been?" Hilda demanded.

"I _was_ at work!" Betty exclaimed. "Just… I just came in a little late is all."

"Betty, he called at 11."

"OK, a lot late. Sorry."

"You think 'sorry' is gonna cut it? Nuh-uh, I don't think so," Hilda was in full stride now, blazing with righteous fury; an avenging angel in stiletto heels and hotpants. She cast a glance at her son. "Justin, go call Grandpa and tell him your Aunt Betty's OK."

Though he looked a little miffed to be missing the sisterly feud, Justin slid obediently off the stairs.

"They were really awesome signs. I'll totally print one out to show you later," he said to Betty over his shoulder as he headed for the kitchen.

"Do you have any idea what we've been going through?" Hilda turned her glare back onto Betty as soon as Justin was out of the room. "What Papi's been going through?"

"I'm not a kid, Hilda," Betty snapped, the injustice of it all making her bristle. What right did they have to know every little detail about where she was going and who she was with? She was 23 years old, for crying out loud; she had a right to a little privacy.

"No, you're not. But would it've killed you to give him a call?" Hilda fired back.

"Fine. I'm sorry. But I'm here now and I'm fine. Everything's fine, OK?"

Betty got to her feet and stormed up the stairs. But Hilda's sudden, almost desperate grab at her sleeve made her turn back around. The look on her big sister's face was like a punch to the stomach.

"Betty… we knew Henry left last night, and we were afraid that…" Hilda's voice faltered, and for the first time Betty saw that her sister's eyes were glittering with tears. "Well… we were worried about you."

"I'm sorry," Betty said, not knowing what else she could say. "I should have called you, and I'm sorry. Everything's just been so weird since last night, and I haven't really been thinking…"

"Where were you?" Hilda asked. "You know it isn't safe to walk around the city alone at night like that. What were you--"

"I wasn't alone," Betty snapped without thinking.

That drew Hilda up short, but not for long.

"Don't tell me Henry stayed," she said, astounded.

"No," Betty said, the elaborate story she had spent half the day concocting all but vanishing from her memory. "Christina. We… went out. And then it was late so I slept on her couch. That's all."

For a moment Hilda just stared at her in that way she had of seeming to look through her skin and bones and straight to her brainwaves. Betty hated that look. It was the superior look. The I-know-you-better-than-you-know-yourself look. But not this time. This time there was no way Hilda could possibly figure out the truth.

"You were with Daniel."

Damn. It.

"That's… that's ridiculous," Betty stammered. The back of her neck suddenly felt excruciatingly hot. Hilda grabbed Betty's arm and practically dragged her up the stairs. Once Betty's bedroom door was shut behind them, Hilda whirled on her.

"OK," Hilda said. "Spill."

"Spill what? There's nothing to spill," Betty said.

"Hey, I spent my afternoon hanging 'missing' signs," Hilda pointed out. "I think I'm entitled to a little inside info, don't you?"

The look in Hilda's eyes--simultaneously relieved and terrified--made Betty feel like the absolute worst person in the world. Hilda was right, of course; she probably did deserve to know. And, after all, what was there to lose? It wasn't like it was a big secret after the day's exploits at MODE. For all she knew she'd wind up on page six the next morning--oh, God, she hadn't even thought of that till now!--and her pride was already in pathetic tatters anyway. Besides, talking through the events aloud might help to clear some of the cobwebs from her brain.

So she spilled it all. Every last agonizing detail. By the time she reached the end of her sordid tale she lay sprawled on the bed with her face buried in the pillow while Hilda gently stroked her hair. Betty let out a long, frustrated groan.

"So… do you _like_ him?" Hilda asked.

"Daniel? No!" Betty cried, sitting up for emphasis. "No! Absolutely not. No."

"Uh-huh."

"I mean, he's a great boss and a terrific friend… but me and Daniel? No way. It doesn't make any sense," Betty said. Hilda sat back against the _Little Mermaid_ pillows, arms crossed over her chest. Something about the way she was looking at her made Betty feel like a misbehaving child.

"It would be crazy," she continued. "Wouldn't happen."

Hilda was starting to smirk now.

"Not in a million years," Betty said.

"I get it, Betty."

"Yeah. OK, right, of course you do," Betty said, rubbing at her eyes tiredly. "I think I just need to lie down for a while. I feel like I could die."

"Sure," Hilda said, sliding off the bed and heading for the door. Grateful beyond belief for the long-sought opportunity to rest, Betty stretched out atop her Disney blankets with a contented yawn. But Hilda hesitated in the doorway, her hand over the light switch, gazing back at her little sister with an odd, unreadable expression.

Betty cracked one eye open and peered over at her.

"What?" she asked.

"You're right," Hilda said.

"About what?"

"You and Daniel," Hilda said. "It doesn't make sense."

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Betty demanded, sitting up. "Why would you say something like--"

"It doesn't make sense that you two _still_ haven't figured out what you have!" Hilda said. "And what's with the defensive attitude, huh? I thought you didn't like him anyway." Her dark eyes were sparkling gleefully, clearly loving every minute of this.

"What do you…?" Betty trailed off, paused to reorganize her thoughts and then tried again. "What do we have?"

"Oh, come _on_ Betty!" Hilda exclaimed, rolling her eyes. "Stop running from it for a change. Something amazing is staring you right in the face and, if you can't see it, it's time to open your eyes and look."

"You mean… Daniel? You're talking about Daniel?" Betty stammered.

"Who else, genius?" Hilda grinned teasingly.

"But… Daniel and I… we don't--"

"--make sense. Yeah, yeah," Hilda said. "Who cares? What ever makes sense, anyway? Nothing worth getting excited about."

"I've never even _thought_ about Daniel like that," Betty said.

"Yeah, and that's your problem," Hilda said. "Take a risk, Betty. What've you got to lose, huh?"

"…a lot."

"See, now that's totally the wrong attitude," Hilda said.

"It's been a long day, OK?" Betty said, flopping back on the bed again and throwing an arm across her face with a grunt. "I need to rest."

"Yeah, OK," Hilda said, flipping off the lights. "But just think about it."

The bedroom door clicked shut behind Hilda and the room plunged into darkness. All thoughts of exhaustion suddenly pushed from her mind, Betty stared at the ceiling while possibilities she had never before considered paraded through her brain at full force.

Her and Daniel? Could there actually be something there that she had never acknowledged? What if he'd been going to say as much in his office that afternoon before she'd cut him off? The mere thought of it made her heart flutter in a way that it hadn't since that time Henry fixed her butterfly wing.

But what if he'd been going to say that, sure, it was a nice night but it should never happen again? It could have been that. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she thought it must have been that. Daniel had been nice enough to comfort her after Henry's departure, but comfort was all it was and undoubtedly he didn't want her to get the wrong idea.

But what if Hilda was right?

But what if… what if… what if…?

With a moan, Betty curled into the fetal position and tugged the comforter up over her head in hopes that it would shut out her increasingly spiraling thought process. All she wanted was to sleep for a good 12 hours and wake up in the morning magically knowing what to do.

At least all this confusion with Daniel couldn't follow her into her sleep.

.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.

**COMING SOON:** Chapter #4, "Dream a Little Dream of Me."

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** I apologize for the distinct lack of Betty/Daniel interaction in this chapter, but I felt like this was a piece of the puzzle that had to be there. Never fear, there will be more than enough Dettyness in the remaining chapters to make up for it! Thank you again for all the awesome comments; seriously, you guys have turned me into a review junkie. It's better than Oreos. So, please, keep my Muse ready and raring to go by reviewing the latest installment. Thanks!


	4. Dream a Little Dream of Me

**DISCLAIMER:** None of 'em are mine. Alas.

**Chapter #4**

_Dream a Little Dream of Me_

It was nearly 3:00 a.m. and she couldn't sleep. She'd spent hours tossing and turning in a fruitless attempt to find a comfortable position, but no matter how she situated herself it just didn't feel right. And it was too cold in her room. She'd never had any problems with the temperature before, but tonight it was like an igloo.

She flopped over onto her other side for what had to be the five-billionth time and grabbed one of her extra pillows. She clutched it against her chest like a teddy bear, resting her cheek against it and closing her eyes.

The lumpy pillow solidified in her arms and suddenly she was no longer cold. A hand tenderly smoothed her hair, and when she tilted her head back a pair of beautiful blue eyes gazed adoringly down at her.

Her eyes popped open.

With a frustrated moan she hurled the pillow from her like it was a snake that had found its way into her bed. The entire night had been like this. Every time she finally started to drift off, he was there waiting for her. And no matter how hard she tried to think of other things she couldn't seem to shake him off. Even the loss of Henry, so keen the previous night, had been virtually forgotten.

Betty rubbed her tired eyes and stared at the ceiling. What was going on, anyway? She didn't even _like_ Daniel like that. What she had told Hilda was the absolute truth; she had never even considered the idea of her and Daniel romantically, not once. It just didn't make sense. Why did her brain insist on thinking things she knew she wasn't feeling? Things she _couldn't_ be feeling?

Her bedroom drifted in and out of focus as her eyes tried desperately to close. At first she fought it, certain that more ridiculous dreams awaited, but she was so exhausted and overwhelmed that she couldn't fend it off forever.

The room around her slowly faded away and she found herself sitting in a different bedroom altogether…

_The bedroom, with its modern furniture and half-naked wall mural, was familiar and yet strange to her at the same time. It wasn't as though she had never been here before; on the contrary, she'd grown quite accustomed to it over the past year and a half of working with its inhabitant. But usually she was there to help pour over the latest layouts or to coax Daniel back into civilization after callous bitches broke his heart on national television. Never before had she sat in this room cursing the world and desperately fighting back tears._

_Half-eaten boxes of Chinese takeout sat, discarded, on the floor nearby with cheap wooden chopsticks balanced on the rims. An empty pint of Ben & Jerry's lay on its side beside them. Her mouth still tasted of Chunky Monkey as she stared forlornly at the floor._

"_I thought he might stay," she murmured, unable even to look at the man sitting on the bed beside her. "Wow, that sounds really stupid, doesn't it? And, I mean, I knew he was leaving. It's not like I didn't know. But I just… I hoped…"_

"_I know," Daniel said, gently. She still couldn't look at him. Her throat was painfully tight. She swallowed hard when her eyes began to ache, struggling valiantly to keep the inevitable at bay._

"_But then… when he got into the cab with his suitcases and things…" she stammered. "I just thought, oh my God. He's really going. He's gone." Her stomach twisted. She didn't know whether she felt like crying, breaking things, or some combination of the two. Despite her best efforts to hold them back, tears began to blur across her eyes. And all she could think was, 'Damn it.'_

_She took in a shuddering breath. Before the first sob even reached her lips Daniel gathered her into his arms. With her face buried in his chest, she finally gave in to all the horrible feelings she'd been holding at bay since Henry had left that afternoon. That she'd held at bay ever since they had first started their doomed romance against the advice of almost everyone she loved. All that was keeping her from shattering into a thousand pieces was Daniel's embrace. She clung to him more tightly than she had ever clung to anyone in her life._

_A hand gently rubbed her back while she wept, and his lips pressed comfortingly against the top of her head._

"_Shh…" he murmured against her hair._

_God, what she must look like to him! She didn't need her boss, of all people, to see her behaving like an infant over a breakup that she'd always known was going to happen. Never mind that he was her best friend. He was still her boss, and she was beginning to suspect that they had crossed the employer-employee threshold of propriety a long time ago._

_She struggled to stave off her tears, but managed only to make a few peculiar hiccupping sounds. After a moment, she pulled back from Daniel to wipe at her eyes and nose. _

_There was mascara on his Armani shirt. She wiped at it ineffectually with her fingertips. Daniel looked down at her._

"_Want me to break his knees?" he asked._

_Betty burst out into a half-laugh, half-sob._

"_No," she said, "He didn't do anything wrong, it's my own fault. I'm the stupid one. You said so yourself."_

_His face fell._

"_I didn't mean that," he said._

"_But you were right," she whimpered. "Just look at me!" She barely finished the sentence before she was in hysterics all over again._

"_Betty…" Daniel murmured, drawing her in against him again and rocking soothingly back and forth. "You are not stupid. Henry's the stupid one for messing things up with you. He lost someone really, really remarkable. Because that's what you are, you know that?"_

_There were a lot of things she wanted to say. She wanted to say that Henry had no choice. That he had to go back to Tucson with Charlie and the baby. That she wasn't the sort of girl anyone really regretted losing in the end. But the sobs were coming so heavily that no words could make it out. So, instead, she held onto Daniel with all her strength, afraid that if she let go of him she would lose her already faltering grip on sanity. And maybe it was her imagination, but she thought that he clung to her just as tightly._

_When she'd finally managed to calm her tears down to the occasional sniffle, Daniel cleared his throat uncertainly. He loosened his hold on her and pulled back to look into her red, swollen eyes._

"_Do you want some water?" he asked. Betty sniffed loudly, and he grinned. "And a Kleenex?" Wiping at her eyes, Betty nodded. Daniel slid out of her arms and headed for the kitchen. Without him, the room suddenly felt cold. She began to shiver._

_He took a long time. Much longer than a simple glass of water warranted. Still shivering, Betty scooted over and pulled his bedspread up over her. When he still hadn't returned after another couple of minutes, she sank into the bed until her head finally came to rest on his pillow. It would only be for a minute, she told herself wearily, just until Daniel came back with her water. And then she would wash her face and call a taxi…_

_She was half asleep when Daniel finally returned with her drink and a box of Kleenex. His hair was damp, as though he'd been splashing his face with cold water while he was out of the room, but she only noticed through a vague and dreamy haze. He froze when he saw her in his bed._

_After a moment he set the glass down on the bed stand and gently touched her shoulder._

"_Betty?"_

_She peered up at him with half-closed eyes._

"_Can you call me a cab…?" she mumbled. He smiled down at her, and she felt the warmth of his hand against her cheek._

"_It's after 3:00," he said, quietly. "Want to just stay?"_

_She nodded vaguely, her eyes drifting closed again. His warm fingers brushed the sides of her face as he gently removed her glasses and set them on the bedside table. Then he went away. Betty felt suddenly alone._

_Henry was gone. There would be no unexpected return trip to New York this time. Charlie was due in two weeks, and he had new obligations now. Obligations that had nothing whatsoever to do with Betty. She hadn't gone with him to the airport; she wasn't strong enough. Instead, they'd said their last goodbyes on a city sidewalk while the cab driver impatiently honked his horn and muttered things unfit for civilized ears. Henry had been pale-faced and somber but he hadn't cried. Neither had Betty, until now._

_The bed shifted behind her and Daniel's arms slid around her from behind, his body spooning against hers. Gently, he smoothed her unruly black hair back from her face. It was a moment before she realized that she'd started crying again._

"_Shh…" His breath was warm against her neck and, without considering the implications, she snuggled back against him. She was tired and emotionally drained, and his arms around her felt unbelievably good and, somehow, right. Nothing could hurt her while he held her. Daniel would keep her safe._

"…_thank you, Daniel," she murmured._

"_You're welcome," he whispered._

_And then her phone started to ring._

Betty jerked awake. On the table beside the bed, her cell phone gaily sang "La Cucaracha" with no consideration whatsoever for the earliness of the hour. She glanced at the clock while reaching for the phone. Who on earth would call her at 4:00 a.m.?

Daniel's face stared back at her from the phone's screen, and her heart promptly leapt into her throat. Uncertainly, she hit the talk button.

"…Daniel?" she whispered, terrified that someone in her family might hear her. There was a long pause. So long that she thought perhaps he'd hung up on her.

"Were you asleep?" he finally asked.

"Daniel, it's 4:00 a.m.!" she exclaimed in a hushed voice. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I…" he floundered. "I couldn't sleep."

Betty's mouth dropped open in disbelief. Had the man been standing in front of her, she would have been sorely tempted to give him a good, solid shaking.

"Me neither," was what she said instead.

"Really?" he said quickly.

The eagerness in his voice unnerved her. Silence enveloped them.

"Would it be unrealistic to ask you to come over?" he said, finally.

"What?!"

"I've been thinking a lot," he said, all in a rush. "About last night."

"Daniel, it's late. Go to sleep," she said, but her head was spinning. Shocking as his statement had been, even more shocking was the realization that--if she hadn't needed to get up for work in three hours--she would have been more than a little tempted to take him up on his offer. Hilda's words from earlier that evening rushed back to her.

"I liked it, Betty," he barreled on before she could hang up on him. "And you did, too. I know you did."

He was right, of course. She _had_ liked it. More than she wanted to admit, even. But that didn't mean that it was right, or that they ought to let it happen again. She was only upset that Henry was gone and there was no point getting ideas that it was anything more than that. Because it wasn't. Right? No. The absolute last thing she wanted to do was screw up the best friendship she had. But there was that nagging doubt. That little part of her that wanted to climb out of bed and figure out a way to get to Daniel's apartment at this hour.

"…Betty? You still there?"

Well, no matter what, half-asleep at 4:00 a.m. was definitely not the best state of mind in which to make such a decision.

"Daniel… I'm tired," she said. "I'll talk to you in the morning."

And she hung up.

.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.

**COMING SOON:** Chapter #5, "So Close and Still So Far."

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** All right, I promised you more Detty and hopefully this fit the bill. This fic is pretty much Dettylicious from here on out. Thank you so, so much for all the amazing reviews. You get me blushing and grinning stupidly every time. I love you all; what awesome readers you've been so far. It's amazing to realize just how many Detty fans are out there! Huzzah!


	5. So Close and Still So Far

**DISCLAIMER:** I'm in negotiations with Silvio Horta regarding ownership of Daniel Meade. OK, that's a lie. But a girl can dream, can't she?

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **For my purposes Marc and Willie are back at MODE. Doesn't play a major part in the story, but figured I'd clarify that in case anybody does a double-take.

**Chapter #5**

_So Close and Still So Far_

Late to work for the second day in a row, Betty impatiently jabbed the elevator button a good 15 times in the hope that it might speed things up. Her sleep quota had most definitely not been met over the past two nights and she felt like she might pass out against the elevator wall before she even made it to the twenty-eighth floor. At least this time she was in a fresh outfit with brushed hair, and decidedly alone.

She bounced nervously on the balls of her feet while she watched the numbers slowly ticking upwards.

How could he call her up at 4:00 a.m. and say something like that? The man was infuriating. Why couldn't he just let things lie and stop messing with her brain and jumping into her dreams and let her get some actual _sleep_ for a change? And the way Hilda had kept winking and shooting her knowing glances over breakfast hadn't exactly calmed the butterflies in her stomach, either.

The elevator doors opened with a ding and she tromped out, turned the corner towards her desk and froze.

Oh crap.

He was waiting for her. She could see him down at the end of the hallway, standing beside her desk and glancing uncertainly around the office. He checked his watch, then lifted his gaze.

Their eyes met.

The way he was looking at her almost made her lose her balance. Damn him and those blue eyes that made it impossible to stay irritated with him for any length of time.

"_Would it be unrealistic to ask you to come over?"_

A tiny shiver ran down the entire length of her spine at the memory of his words the previous night. And another shiver of a completely different nature soon followed when her mind, unbidden, conjured up an image of what her night could have been like had she opted to take him up on that offer. She shook her head. No more thoughts like that! They weren't making an already-confusing situation any better.

Though he'd stood noticeably straighter at the sight of her, Daniel did not approach. She was the one who had to go to him and they both knew it. Betty took a deep breath. It was time to discuss this like mature, rational adults. And as a mature, rational adult, she took the course of action that seemed the most sensible at the time.

She ran in the opposite direction.

"CHRISTINA!" she wailed as she burst into the Closet. Though the seamstress was nowhere to be seen, the rustling of fabrics towards the back of the Closet betrayed her presence. Betty threw herself face down on the nearest sofa.

"What? So early?" Christina's voice came from the sea of clothes. "What is it, love?" She emerged from the racks tangled in neon green taffeta and looking somewhat manic with sewing shears in hand. But after one look at Betty's crumpled form on the sofa she pulled up a chair and settled herself in.

"It's Daniel," Betty said.

"Are ye still upset about yesterday? Don't worry, everyone's nearly forgotten about it already," Christina assured her. But Betty just moaned.

"It's not that," she said. "He called me."

When she looked over at Christina, her friend didn't look suitably shocked.

"Betty, he calls you every five minutes," she said.

"At 4:00 a.m."

"A wee bit more interesting," Christina said, leaning in.

"And he asked me to come over."

"What?!"

"Shh!" Betty hissed, casting a nervous glance over her shoulder, half expecting the MODE gossip mongers to have appeared behind her in full force. "And Hilda thinks there's actually something between Daniel and me. Something, you know, _romantic_. And, I mean, she's wrong of course. Or at least I thought she was wrong till he called, but now I just… This is all so completely out of the blue!"

"You slept with him," Christina said. "How's that out of the blue?"

"I did _not_ sleep with him!" Betty exclaimed, beet red. "Well, OK, technically yes. But we just slept together. We didn't _sleep_ together. Christina, what do I do?"

"Daniel Meade, wanton sex god, is in hot pursuit and you're in here asking me what to do?" Christina said incredulously. "Hmm… yes, that _is _a terrible predicament…"

"Shut up," Betty said. "Help me."

"Y'know, Betty, I think that sister o' yours just might be onto somethin' this time."

Something like relief washed over Betty at those words. But it was soon followed by something like dread, because she knew what the next words out of Christina's mouth were going to be.

"You've got to talk to him. Ye can't run away forever."

Why did her friends always have to be right?

"But what if it's a mistake?" Betty whimpered.

"Then send him my way," Christina said with a wink. Betty hit her. "Only jokin'! Well, mostly jokin'. Aw c'mon now, Betty, don't look at me like that. Ye can't blame a girl for dreaming. We aren't all lucky enough to have gorgeous, virile men throwing themselves at our feet."

Blushing furiously, Betty took a deep breath.

"OK. I'll do it."

"Good girl!" Christina exclaimed, prodding her towards the door. "Go on now and get it over with so you can have a shag and tell me all about it."

"Christina!"

"What?" Christina said. "I'd like to live vicariously, that's all I'm sayin'. Now hurry up and get over there before you get cold feet and I lose my chance."

Christina practically shoved her back into the hallway, and Betty was left feeling dazed. Maybe this whole idea wasn't such a crazy one after all. Christina hadn't exactly laughed at the possibility--anything but!--and she hadn't even seemed all that shocked. But Betty's heart was racing.

There was nothing to worry about, she reminded herself as she slowly started back down the hall. This was Daniel. She was comfortable with Daniel. She could talk to Daniel. This was going to be OK.

And, oh God, there he was. Still stationed resolutely beside her desk. The man was persistent, she had to give him that.

"Good morning!" she forced an easiness into her voice that she didn't feel as she slung her bag onto the desk and tugged off her puffy blue coat.

"'Morning," Daniel said, watching as she busied herself with booting up the computer and clicking through the dozens of emails awaiting her attention. He sat on the edge of her desk. He wasn't going anywhere.

"Sleep well?" he asked, casually. The direct approach.

"Not really," she said, never lifting her eyes from the computer screen. "Some jerk called me at 4:00 a.m."

The corners of Daniel's lips twitched into a tiny smile.

"Wow, that sucks," he said. "I hope you told him off."

"I hung up on him."

"Serves him right."

She took a deep breath. It was now or never.

"You were right, you know," she said. For a long moment, he didn't respond. Betty studiously pretended to be engrossed by her email inbox.

"About what?"

"I did like it," she said, raising her eyes to his. Daniel swallowed hard.

What was going on behind those blue eyes of his? Normally she could read Daniel like a book, but when it came to discerning what he was feeling about _her_ she was a downright hopeless case.

Finally, with a little sigh, she rested her cheek in her hand and peered up at him shyly through her bangs.

"Sooo…" she said, rocking her chair from side to side. "What now?"

"I don't know," he said.

Wait. Had he just leaned in the tiniest bit?

"Busy tonight?" he asked.

"…no," she murmured.

Now he was definitely moving closer.

"There's this pizza place in Brooklyn… you might have heard of it."

Not only was her heart on the verge of a cardiac arrest, but suddenly her entire mouth felt excruciatingly dry.

She licked her lips. Daniel's gaze went immediately to her mouth.

"Betty, Daniel needs to sign off on this or--_Whoa_ there!" Marc spun away with a barely-concealed gag reflex. Daniel jumped to his feet and Betty shoved her chair back as far away from him as possible. "OK, so as much as I hate to interrupt your little editor-assistant bonding session, Wilhelmina waits for no one. You. Sign."

Daniel snatched the paper Marc was waving at him, gave it a quick once-over and scrawled a hurried signature before thrusting it back. Marc gingerly plucked the form from Daniel's hands.

"Well, I'll leave you to… whatever it is you call this," he sniffed, turning and hurrying down the hall. The sound of him taking a puff off his inhaler echoed behind him. Daniel cleared his throat.

"So… after work, then?" he asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, OK," Betty said. He hovered beside her desk for a moment, fidgeting with his tie. Then, with an awkward nod, he went into his office.

For a second Betty thought she might pass out. Then she thought she might start squealing like a 12-year-old girl. To hopefully stave off both possibilities, she bit her tongue and turned to run right back to the Closet and spill all to Christina.

But, instead, she ran right smack into Renee Slater.

"Excuse you," Renee said, taking a step back. "Isn't there some sort of 'no running in the halls' rule here?"

"Oh… I'm so sorry… Betty stammered. "Did you, uh… are you… do you need something?"

"Yeah, no worries, I'll just let myself in," Renee said with a smile. She sidled past with an easy grace that made Betty feel decidedly cumbersome. "Oh, but first: Question."

Betty snapped back to attention.

"What?"

"Is something going on?" Renee asked. "With Daniel?"

"Wh…What?" Betty was pretty sure her death was at hand.

"I dunno, he just seems weird the past couple of days. I figured you might know why," Renee's voice was eerily casual. "I thought maybe something was distracting him. Like maybe another woman."

"Um… I don't…"

"Not that it'd last, mind you," Renee continued, examining her nails. "You know how he is. Gets bored and convinces himself he's found something better. It'll last a couple of days, maybe a week. Then he'll be back to me where he belongs. So, you haven't seen anything…suspicious?"

Feeling suddenly ill, Betty shook her head.

"Glad to hear it," Renee smiled disarmingly. She pivoted easily and strode to Daniel's office while Betty watched, feeling like her heart had just been stomped on by Renee's stiletto heels. Was Daniel _playing_ her? After all that? Was he stringing both her and Renee along just to keep from getting bored?

She took a few deep breaths, willing the ache at the backs of her eyes to fade. Don't cry, Betty. Not at the office. Not in front of them.

Hurriedly, she grabbed her coat and bag and ran for the lobby.

"I hope you've figured out a way to answer phones with your mind," Amanda called after Betty as she passed. The blonde didn't even bother looking up from the glossy magazine through which she was thumbing. "Because it seriously cuts into my reading time."

The elevator doors opened and Betty stepped inside.

"Tell Daniel I'm at lunch," she said. "I need some fresh air." She pushed the Lobby button and the doors slid shut behind her. As the elevator quietly made its way downward, the tears she'd been trying to hold back finally escaped down her cheeks. She wiped at them furiously.

Stupid. Stupid to believe Hilda and all her romantic gushing. Stupid to listen to Christina's advice. Stupid to think that Daniel actually had any sort of real feelings for her when he had women like Renee lined up around the block just to spend an evening with him. Stupid to have it all snatched from her right when she finally acknowledged the one thing she'd avoided for so long…

…that she was absolutely, undeniably, completely head-over-heels in love with Daniel Meade.

.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.

**COMING SOON:** Chapter #6, "In the Arms of an Angel"

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Mwahaha... can't make the road to happily ever after too easy for these two. Thank you again for all the wonderful reviews! You guys are amazing, and I appreciate your comments so, so much. You have no idea how big a grin I get on my face every time a new review comes through. It's kind of ridiculous how much I love it. So keep 'em comin'! Pretty, pretty please.


	6. In the Arms of an Angel

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own any of these lovely characters; I'm just borrowing them for my own shippy purposes. Thanks for the loan, Silvio!

**Chapter #6**

_In the Arms of an Angel_

Betty barely paid attention to her chosen route as she wandered down the sidewalk like a lost soul, weaving between preoccupied pedestrians as she went. Despite her best efforts not to look like a complete basket case in public, a few tears still managed to stream down her cheeks. The occasional passerby slowed as they passed her, but no one went so far as to approach and ask what was wrong. For once, Betty was grateful for New Yorkers' stereotypical callousness; she didn't think she could handle some kind stranger offering to help.

Her aimless meandering soon brought her to Central Park. The Park had always been a source of great joy to Betty, even as a little girl. She associated it with family picnics and exciting trips into Manhattan. And no matter how many times she heard stories about people being mugged within its boundaries she still could never think of it as anything less than magnificent. It was the perfect place to walk when she wanted to think.

And, oh, did she ever have some thinking to do now.

A not-insignificant part of her protested the very idea that Daniel would play her like he had played countless models over his years as playboy extraordinaire. After all, she was hardly just one of his nameless, faceless girls. They'd known one another for two years now. They'd shared so many milestones together that she could no longer count them all. She was his best friend. And, quite frankly, the idea that Daniel Meade would just want her for her body was downright laughable.

But the fact was that he was still with Renee. And, though Renee's words had stung like nothing else, Betty couldn't help but wonder if she was right. Why else would he keep two women going at the same time? The absolute last thing she wanted was to become just another notch in Daniel's bedpost and lose her best friend in the process.

She stopped, suddenly realizing where her feet had brought her: Bethesda Terrace. The Bethesda Fountain stood before her, its guardian angel statue towering over her head in an awesome but intimidating way. A little boy was splashing at the pool of water while his mother tried to coax him away with a hotdog from the nearby stand. A short ways off, a photographer snapped photos of people walking across the Terrace.

Betty gazed up at the statue's stone face and couldn't help but feel the Angel's expression looked particularly sympathetic today.

"You're an angel," she murmured under her breath. "So tell me what to do."

She waited, half expecting a response.

"Please?" she added.

When the Angel still offered no comfort, Betty sat on the Fountain's edge with a weary sigh.

"I know, I know, I have to figure it out myself. I hate that that's always how it works," she said. "But would it be against the rules to, I don't know, give me a sign? I could do with a sign right about now. What do you say, huh?"

She waited. But there was nothing. With a deep sigh, she got back to her feet.

Her phone started to ring.

Betty nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of "La Cucaracha" blasting in her pocket. She fumbled for her phone and, once she had it in hand, she peered at the screen.

Daniel.

She bit her lower lip, considering. But no, she wasn't in the right state of mind yet. If she wanted to express herself coherently she would need to organize her thoughts first.

She sent the call to voicemail.

"Now that's just mean," said a voice she knew all too well.

"Daniel?" she turned to find him standing just five feet behind her, cell phone in hand. "What are you doing here?"

"Three guesses," he said. "And the first two don't count."

"I…I'm sorry I took lunch a little early," Betty managed. "I just needed some fresh air. I can stay late to make up for being late this morning, too."

"Betty…" he sighed, approaching until he stood right in front of her. "I don't care about that."

"How did you find me?" she asked.

"Meade Publications installs tracking devices in all its employees. Covertly, of course, so they won't get suspicious," he said. When her eyes widened in shock, he smiled. "Betty, I followed you. I would have caught you in the lobby if you hadn't gotten a head start in the elevator."

"Oh," she said. "I mean, I knew that."

"I know what Renee said to you," he said. "Well, I know the gist of it. And, Betty…"

"Please don't try to be nice to me, Daniel," she said, silently cursing the fact that her voice sounded higher pitched than usual. "Just…tell me the truth quick so we can move on and get past this whole thing."

"The truth?" he asked. She nodded, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath for strength, steeling herself against the words she was sure were coming.

His hands clasped hers.

Betty's eyes snapped open again and she stared at their joined hands, thoroughly muddled.

"The truth…" he said. "…is that I broke up with Renee."

"You…what? When?" she stammered.

"Yesterday," he said.

"But--"

"She came in today to try and talk me out of it," he sighed. "Again. God, Betty, I'm so sorry that she got to you like that. I didn't mean for… I didn't know she would come in and talk to you. I didn't realize till I saw you leaving."

Betty swallowed hard, feeling like she was experiencing everything through a weird, surreal fog.

"Daniel…"

"If you're still up for dinner tonight after all this…" his voice trailed off. His blue eyes met hers almost desperately, and the trepidation in them was so real, so _endearing_, that she couldn't have turned him down if she'd wanted to.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. He breathed a relieved sigh.

"Good," he said. "That's…that's good."

He was still holding both of her hands in his, gazing down at her with an expression that Betty couldn't quite read but made her breath catch in her throat all the same. She took a deep breath.

"We should get back," she said, pulling away. But Daniel's grip on her hands tightened. He tugged her back towards him.

In an instant, his lips were against hers.

Betty let out a startled "Mmph!" as Daniel's arms enfolded her, his hands resting on the small of her back and drawing her gently closer. She lay her hands tentatively against his chest. His heart was racing.

They broke apart. Daniel leaned down to rest his forehead against hers and blew out a shaky breath. His eyes were an even brighter blue than usual.

"Well," he said huskily. "Finally."

Betty's brain refused to form any sort of coherent thought other than that Daniel Meade had just kissed her. Daniel. _Her _Daniel. Oh, that sounded nice, didn't it? She giggled a nervous, high-pitched giggle.

Daniel looked down at her with raised eyebrows.

"Something funny?" he asked.

"You," she said, leaning in against him.

"Huh. And here I thought I was dashing and romantic," he said, grinning. Betty rolled her eyes.

"What you are, Daniel Meade, is too confident for your own good," she said.

"Confident?" he laughed weakly. "Are you kidding me? I spent the last two days staring at my phone, scared to death."

"You didn't seem to mind calling me at ungodly hours last night," she reminded him.

"Yeah, well I had sleep deprivation helping me out on that one," he said. He lifted one hand to her face and gently trailed his index finger along her cheek, all the while gazing at her with a vulnerable, childlike expression that seemed almost out of place on his roguish features. "You're beautiful."

"Oh, don't," Betty murmured, turning red and pulling away from him.

"It's the truth," he said, capturing her face in his hands before she could get far. He kissed her forehead, just barely touching his lips to her skin. A pleasant shiver trailed down her spine at the contact.

"You are beautiful." He kissed the tip of her nose, still cupping her face in his hands. Betty's stomach did a little flip. His nose touched hers and all she could see were those brilliant pools of blue gazing back at her.

"You are the most beautiful woman I've ever known," he said, and his voice was barely more than a whisper. Betty held her breath. His lips brushed against hers, and her eyes fluttered closed.

The flare of a flashbulb startled them out of the moment.

Blinking confusedly, Betty turned towards the source of the flash. Half a dozen members of the paparazzi had gathered to snap photos of the romantic interlude. Yeesh, they were like vultures honing in! How could they possibly have found them so quickly? Shyly, Betty ducked behind Daniel and buried her face in the back of his jacket to shield herself from the photographers. Daniel did his best to puff himself up bigger than his actual size.

"Hey, get out of here!" he said. "This is none of your business." The click of camera shutters filled the Central Park air around them. The flashbulbs nearly blinded Betty with each flash. Well, here was something she hadn't thought of! Date Daniel Meade and she might as well walk around with a sign on her back that said, 'Tabloid Fodder.'

"Let's go back," she murmured into Daniel's shoulder, doing her best to hide her face in her long hair. "Come on." She took him by the hand and began to pull him away from the photographers.

"Mr. Meade," one of the photographers pushed his way in. Daniel did his best to shield Betty as they inched around the fountain's edge. "Who is that with you, sir? Isn't that your assistant?"

"Go away," Daniel said.

"Miss Suarez, have you always been interested in Mr. Meade?" the photographer continued, stepping in towards Betty.

Betty gripped Daniel's hand more tightly and backpedaled. Unfortunately, she'd forgotten that they were standing right at the edge of the Bethesda Fountain. The backs of her legs struck the fountain's rim.

With a shriek, she toppled over backwards, dragging a startled Daniel along with her.

"Wha--?!" was all he got out before they landed in the water with a massive splash.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" Betty spluttered as she sat up, wiping fountain water from her eyes. "Daniel, are you OK?" Daniel sat in the water beside her, his mouth open in silent shock. His blue Dolce & Gabbana suit was soaked through, his purple tie dark and dripping. And his hair, normally so painstakingly styled, wilted and dripped down his face. He stared at her for a long moment.

And then he began to laugh.

"Daniel…?" Betty faltered. Had he hit his head or something?

He took her face in both hands and kissed her. And, oh wow, she'd never been kissed like that before! His lips were soft, parted slightly against hers, and tasted vaguely of salt. His tongue gently prodded at her lips, urging them open.

Shocked, Betty pulled back.

"Daniel!"

"What?" he asked innocently, leaning towards her. She cast a meaningful glance towards the paparazzi, who were gleefully snapping photos of the soaking wet duo. As though he'd only just remembered they were there, he followed her gaze. Then, grinning, he shrugged and moved in for another kiss.

"Daniel, what are you doing?" she whispered.

"I'm kissing you. Or I will be if you let me," he said. When she looked towards the paparazzi again, he grinned and added: "Unless you're embarrassed of me."

The absurdity of that statement sent her into a fit of self-conscious giggles.

"They've probably already gotten enough pictures to give us our own tabloid," she said.

"Then what's a few more?" he slid an arm around her waist and drew her in against him. His mouth against hers was intoxicating and, this time, when his tongue trailed along the crease between her lips, she allowed him entrance with a little moan at the back of her throat.

"You realize we're going to be all over Page Six tomorrow," she murmured when they finally paused for breath. Daniel ran a soggy strand of her black hair between his fingers, smiling.

"You know what? I don't care," he said, and leaned in to kiss her again.

Overhead, the stony Angel of Bethesda gazed down at them with what Betty could have sworn was approval. She couldn't repress a grin against Daniel's lips. It looked like she'd gotten her sign, after all!

.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.

**COMING SOON:** Epilogue.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Nearly finished, now! Thank you all once again for the absolutely awesome reviews. I'm so happy that you've been enjoying this little fic of mine. Reviews are crack; I'm an addict and you all are my collective dealer. So, please, feed my habit and enable me to write one last installment. Thankyouthankyouthankyou!


	7. Epilogue: Haven't We Been Here Before?

**DISCLAIMER:** Still don't own them, but man has it been fun.

**Epilogue**

_Haven't We Been Here Before?_

A soft, contented sigh escaped Betty's lips as she nestled deeper beneath the down comforter. Daniel's arms were wrapped tightly around her from behind and his cheek, scratchy with morning stubble, rested against her neck. She could faintly feel his heartbeat pressed against her back and it made her smile as she snuggled back closer against him. An unintelligible murmur escaped his lips in response and he buried his face in her hair.

Over the past four months she had grown accustomed to waking up in Daniel's sparsely furnished loft, greeted by that ridiculous mural and Daniel's blue eyes first thing every morning. At first they'd tried to hold back; just on the weekends, they'd vowed. But that had soon expanded to include Thursday nights--after all, Friday was basically the weekend, Daniel had argued--and then Sunday nights, and soon Betty was spending practically every night in Daniel's embrace.

She stretched like a cat, relishing the feel of his arms around her. After fumbling for her glasses on the bedside table, she balanced them lopsidedly on her nose and peered at the clock.

10:27 a.m.

Wait. What?!

"Oh no!" She bolted upright. Daniel stirred sleepily beside her.

"…wha's wrong?" he mumbled.

"We're late!" She was already half out of bed, wearing nothing but his Harvard tee-shirt.

She scrambled for her overnight bag and, in her mad dash, her foot caught on the leg of the bedside table. With a crash to end all crashes, Betty slammed face-first into the floor, followed shortly thereafter by the table itself.

Daniel sat up, wide awake now.

"Betty?" he asked, staring at her lying sprawled and dazed on the floor, surrounded by the items that had, moments before, been securely atop the bedside table: the clock, her necklace, a cordless phone, Daniel's watch…

"I can fix it!" she cried, awkwardly piling the fallen objects into her arms while simultaneously trying to set the table upright again. Right as she finally got the bedstand back on its feet, the clock slipped from her grasp and everything clattered back onto the floor. Daniel looked like he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

"Problems?" he grinned.

"Shut up," she said, gathering up the fallen items and dumping them unceremoniously atop the little table. "Now get dressed, quick! Alexis is gonna kill us."

And she was off like a shot, fumbling with her overnight bag and yanking out fresh clothes. She had already half pulled on a pair of black slacks when she noticed that Daniel hadn't budged. He still lay in bed, propped up on one elbow, grinning at her like a spoiled prince.

"Daniel! Come on," she said as she yanked her pants on the rest of the way and fastened them up. His grin widened. "Do you _want_ Alexis to tell you off? In front of the entire magazine? Again?"

She peeled off the Harvard tee-shirt and tugged on a pink button-down blouse, all the while fumbling frantically through her bag with one hand. Daniel still hadn't moved.

"I don't know, I think Alexis might be lenient," he said. Wait, what? Betty stared at him like he'd just said he thought Wilhelmina actually wasn't so bad after all.

"Um, Daniel? This is Alexis, remember? I don't think she knows what lenient means," Betty pulled a hairbrush from her bag and hurriedly ran it through her long hair. "Seriously, get up."

"I would, Betty. I really would," he said. "But since it's Saturday and all…"

The brush came to an abrupt halt and she stared at him for a good 30 seconds with her mouth hanging open.

She balled up the Harvard tee-shirt and threw it at his head. He caught it deftly.

"You could have said something," she muttered.

"But you're so cute when you're all freaked out."

"Gee, thanks. I think," Betty stuck her tongue out at him.

"Now why don't you come back to bed?" he said, leaning back on the pillows with open arms. His grin had faded to a little half smile that said, quite clearly, that if she got back into bed she would not be leaving it again for some time. As if she could ever resist those pulse-quickening puppy dog eyes he was giving her. But she pretended to consider all the same.

"I don't know. I mean, now I'm all dressed…" she said. Daniel pouted at her.

"Not fair."

"Life's not fair."

"But Betty…" he whined.

"No 'buts,' mister," she said. "You asked for it."

"What made you so mean?" he sulked while Betty considered the possibilities.

"Hmm."

"What?"

"Maybe I'm pregnant."

His expression was priceless. For a second, Betty thought she was going to have to call an ambulance, the color drained from his face so quickly.

"I'm kidding!" she said. "Relax."

"God, I saw my life flash before my eyes," Daniel said, collapsing back on the bed with a great expulsion of breath. "Why would you do that?!"

"You're just so cute when you're all freaked out," she said with a grin. Daniel eyed her with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

"You're evil," he said.

"But you love me."

"Yeah. I go for evil," he said. "Now come here, you."

He jumped out of bed and covered the distance between them in three long strides.

With a playful shriek, Betty turned to flee but Daniel caught her by the waist before she could make her escape. She half-heartedly struggled and flailed, giggling all the while, as he slung her over his shoulder and carried her back to deposit her triumphantly atop the bed.

"How caveman of you," Betty quipped, her cheeks already flushed in anticipation.

"Well, you do bring out the best in me," he replied, already leaning down and trailing hot kisses along her throat. One of Betty's hands slid up behind his neck and through his hair as she tilted her head back to allow him easier access. She let out a soft moan.

He kissed her fiercely. Betty's fingers tangled in his hair as his tongue slipped between her lips and set her entire body tingling. When he came up for air he gazed at her with a surprisingly soft expression, one hand cupping her cheek.

"Hey," he said. "I love you."

She would never tire of hearing those three words.

"Hey," she said. "I love you too."

Daniel's hand slid to the front of her blouse.

"You know what else I love?" he murmured, unfastening the top button. Betty swallowed hard.

"What?"

He unfastened the next button.

"Guess."

"…teasing me mercilessly?" she offered.

"Close," he said. The third button came undone. As a result, Betty was having trouble thinking clearly. She licked her lips, unable to tear her eyes away from his.

"I give up. Tell me."

Daniel unfastened another button.

"Seeing what kind of sounds I can get you to make," he grinned. Betty laughed and rolled her eyes, but her heart was thumping.

"Awfully sure of yourself, aren't you?" she said.

"Oh yeah," Daniel said, undoing the final button. "Want to try and see?"

Though Betty opened her mouth to deliver some sort of witty response, her brain had deserted her for the time being. All she seemed to be capable of doing was staring into Daniel's blazingly blue eyes, nodding and then kissing him for all she was worth. And as his lips trailed downward, she closed her eyes and clutched at the blanket in anticipation.

Because if there was one thing Daniel Meade knew, it was how to make a woman squeal.

.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.b.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** There, some fun and fluffiness to finish it all off! Hopefully this helped make the last couple of weeks before Betty's return (in the U.S., anyway) a wee bit more bearable. And now I must shamelessly beg you to review one last time. Thank you all for sticking with this story and offering so many awesome, insightful comments. I appreciate it so, so, so much. Thank you!!


End file.
